Relax
by nooblet
Summary: A stress-free day during this time war? Ooh Forde, that's too good to be true.


My first fanfic! Please point out any errors If you find any!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.**

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><p><strong>MagvelRausten Court/1½ years since the start of war**

It felt so good to be in a bed again.

Forde lay sprawled on the bed, obviously enjoying the feeling of the down-stuffed mattress conforming to his body. This was a lot better than sleeping on his constantly-moving horse, sleeping on the ground, setting up tents every night, having to watch for enemy soldiers in case they planned a surprise attack…

He had silently thanked the Pontifex for suggesting that everyone needed to rest. However, it was L'arachel who gave the OK for everyone to rest; Eirika and Ephraim needed to sort out their thoughts and feelings after their previous encounter with Lyon.

Forde had walked past the main hall with Kyle before going to their respective rooms. They looked through the conveniently slightly-opened doors to see L'arachel and Tana trying to comfort the grieving twins. Forde gripped the handle of the door; he wanted to comfort them too, but Kyle put his hand on Forde's shoulder and shook his head.

"We can go to Ephraim later." Kyle whispered to Forde.

Forde mumbled back to Kyle, "Yea? Well, I'm going to be asleep later."

He lay on the bed with his armor; vambraces, boots, plates that protected his shoulders, chest, and hips. He, along with the rest of the team, always wore battle armor/clothing. Infrequent bathing was an exception, along with a change and wash of clothing (and armor, if one was lucky enough). Blood spots painted different areas of his armor and the exposed soft clothing beneath it. Scratches and dents, which varied from light to deep, were undoubtedly evident. No matter how many times he polished and cleaned his armor, he could not restore the luster it had before the start of the war.

He sat up, removed the band that held his ponytail together, and ran his hand through his air. His hair felt slightly damp. It was already Fall; the tree leaves changed into various shades of red, orange and yellow, but the air was still humid. He decided to open the window, to relieve the stuffiness in the room. When he pushed the drapes aside and opened the window, cool air gushed in. The room felt a lot less stuffy.

It wasn't until Forde pushed the drapes aside that he realized the sun had already set. He arched an eyebrow in confusion. It never got this dark, not even when they camped outside. Excluding the moonlight, he had a source of light - his fireplace - in the room, but the darkness seemed so… eerie.

Forde quickly pushed those thoughts aside. He concluded that he was just imagining. His thoughts now consisted of removing his armor, showering, and getting a good night's rest, and damnit that's exactly what he was going to do! This might be his last chance to finally have some time to himself.

…and so, he started by taking of his armor. He unfastened the ties that held each vambrace together, and then tossed them aside. He took off his boots and plates, and within a few minutes, every individual piece of his armor lay in a pile next to the bed.

Forde raised his arms and moved them in every random motion possible. He slowly walked around the room. His paces eventually turned into marching, which he continued to do so until he decided to sit on the edge of his bed and stomp his feet.

He felt much, _much _lighter, and it felt pretty well. The feeling felt like he had rid of a burden that followed him for many years.

Now, to ditch the remaining clothing…

Forde pulled off his fingerless gloves with ease and tossed them to the pile that contained the armor. He fingered the hem of his long-sleeved, cream-colored shirt, and began to pull it over his head… until he heard a lance drop.

He lowered the shirt a little, just so his eyes were able to look at the direction of the sound. His eyes trailed to the wide-open door (which he totally forgot to close) and then to two certain green-haired, green-eyed Pegasus knights. The one closest to the door bent to pick up the fallen lance. The one next to her, who had longer hair and seemed to be taller by about 3-4 inches, directed her attention from her sister to Forde and muttered, "Ooh. Uh, sorry for disturbing you." The shorter girl glanced at who her sister talked to, and a blush crept to her face upon seeing Forde.

When Vanessa looked at Forde, he noticed how red had rushed to her face. Syrene watched Vanessa rise from the floor and adjust the lance in her hand so her grip was comfortable.

"That didn't disturb me at all, but it caught me off guard for a moment. There's no need to be sorry, Syrene." Forde reassured Syrene.

He looked at Vanessa and noticed that the tint of red on her cheeks didn't fade. He didn't know that Vanessa blushed simply because she had a great view of Forde's well-toned body. Before the war, she often saw recruits and trainees shirtless, and that didn't bother her one bit. However, this situation was different. She was so close to him; she was never this close to a shirtless man. The fire helped illuminate every single detail of his torso, which probably took a while to obtain…

Vanessa thought she was going to drool.

Forde cleared his throat and smirked. "So, Vanessa," he started. "Like what you see?"

Vanessa snapped out of her daze and looked Forde in the eye.

"No way, lazybones." she scoffed. After that was said, Vanessa and Syrene continued to walk down the hallway.

When he ceased to hear the sisters' footsteps, he mumbled to himself.

"She knows she's lying."

Nonetheless, Forded took off the shirt. Before tossing it aside in the pile, he examined it. When he held it, he noticed wrinkles, very slight discoloration, small dots of blood, and a long cut on the side – the left side. Upon seeing that, he looked at his left side to find a light scar that seemed to be exactly the same length as the cut on his shirt.

As his finger traced the scar, he frowned. He didn't remember where that one came from. Unlike Ephraim, Forde does not remember where and why he got his scars.

However, he was able to conclude that his shirt needs to be washed and sewed.

As quickly as his sudden burst of motivation came, it quickly left. As a result, to Forde's dismay, he was now tired. He decided to do everything – shower, wash, sew - tomorrow after he woke up from a good night's rest.

Forde climbed into the bed and rested his head on the fluffy pillow. He covered his exposed torso with the thin sheets. He fidgeted a bit to find a comfortable position to sleep in. His body relaxed and conformed to the down-stuffed mattress. Forde grinned, closed his eyes, and waited for sleep to take over him.

Yep, tonight's going to be a very good night.

…

…

…

Forde heard approaching footsteps running down the hall that louder by the second. A voice louder than the footsteps shortly followed, "Attack! Attack! There's an attack by Grado's men! Go up the secret staircase to Pontifex Mansel immediately! Orders will be given at once!"

…I'm _dreaming_, Forde tried to comfort himself. He covered his head with the pillow; he did _not_ hear someone yell that Grado soldiers decided to-

"Attack! Attack!" the previous message was repeated.

…so I'm _not _dreaming, Forde concluded. _Great._

He lazily sat up on the bed. His weary eyes wandered around the room, as if something was missing, until a pile of discarded clothing and armor met his sight.

Forde frowned and groaned in dismay.

A chance to sleep and relax really was too good to be true.


End file.
